


Promise

by anoyo



Category: Peacemaker Kurogane
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-09
Updated: 2008-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoyo/pseuds/anoyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hijikata sits at Souji's bedside before he leaves for Hokkaido, and the last stand of the Shinsengumi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Day nine of my 25 Days of Christmas! This is the only fic I've done that hasn't been my 1,000 word goal, and, uh, it's because it's a fandom that's ridiculously important to me on historical levels? I felt like I'd be cheapening it to add any of the things I thought I could add. So I really like it, despite the angst, and the fact that it's ridic short. Beta'd by [Zanzou](http://zanzou-chan.livejournal.com)! Written for [Blas](http://murdering.livejournal.com), for her prompt: Hijikata/Souji, "A rattling breath the color of carmine." Originally posted [here](http://anoyo.livejournal.com/130808.html).

De mortuis nihil nisi bonum.

It was more than a challenge, sitting there. Sitting there, trying to be optimistic, trying to stick a smile on his face. It was a challenge, he knew it was, but it became slowly less so as he watched the other pull it off so effortlessly.

Souji coughed again, a hard, wracking noise that seemed as though it could tear apart his small, broken body. But he wiped away the blood, pretended the smell of it didn't permeate the air, and continued smiling. Said, "Hey, when does your boat leave?" in that calm, placating voice.

Calming himself, trying to keep up the charade if Souji himself could stay so dedicated, Hijikata said, "An hour. Preparations for boarding, however, begin fairly soon. I only have a couple minutes." His words were truth; he only had a short time to sit beside Souji before he left. He had planned it that way.

There was only so long Hijikata could watch Souji dying before he felt the urge to take the man up in his arms, to heal him, take over his sensibilities, and his mission. The thing they'd set out to do, to accomplish, that Souji had killed himself for. To leave it now would be a far worse thing than leaving Souji, broken, beaten, dying--

"I wish I could go with you," Souji said, unknowingly -- or perhaps knowingly -- cutting in on Hijikata's mental dialogue. His eyes were bright, filled with a number of things: sickness, love, hope, and that fire that had made Souji arguably the best swordsman of their age. There was no "arguably" to Hijikata; he knew it to be true. Given enough time, Souji would have left them all behind.

Given enough time. "Ah, yes," Hijikata said, haltingly. "I, too, wish you were joining me in Hokkaido." He let the truth sink in, perhaps win over, before he continued the charade, lines written for him. "Rest, and become better, and I will see you there."

The lie simply caused the corners of Souji's eyes to wrinkle, a different smile, more amused. "Yes," Souji said plainly as the smile faded away again, real emotion taking so much more energy than play.

He couldn't do it. He had to leave. "I must begin preparations for leaving," Hijikata said plainly, standing to leave, eyes never leaving Souji's frame.

One shallow breath, two, and then a smile, over-bright. "See you soon," the dying man said.

Hijikata could only nod, and walk out. Could only finish his preparations, get on the boat, and sail to Hokkaido to fight a losing battle. It didn't take him long to see it, the futile nature of the battle. In fact, he could have seen it from the beginning. Surrounded by the last remaining of his comrades, all of those who had been able to make the journey to Hokkaido -- willing to make the journey to Hokkaido -- Hijikata could feel it in his bones, their ending.

Not a failure, no, never a failure. They had done their best, fought their battle to the best of their ability. A man fighting a losing battle is not himself the loser.

He greeted his comrades, talked strategy as though this was a battle that they could win, one that they could fight in with the hopes of something being accomplished. He watched as the last men in the country who believed in his ideal came to join him, little by little, until they were a true force of men. Not enough, never enough, but enough to truly make it a battle.

They fought no "series of battles," merely a train of defeat. Defeat, and finality.

It was during a battle that he felt it -- he had wondered if he might, wondered how deeply their connection was drawn -- during a thrust of his blade in a style that was not his own, but eerily familiar. It was like a rush of energy, momentarily, and then a deadly emptiness. Taking him over, it left him a shell, empty on the battlefield.

He thought he knew that it was then, during that very thrust, that Souji--

But he would never know.

"See you soon."


End file.
